


Little Red Lies Case-file #6 - Part 6

by Geelady



Category: The Mentalist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-29
Updated: 2012-02-29
Packaged: 2017-10-31 22:30:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/349017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geelady/pseuds/Geelady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane's turn in the hot seat...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Red Lies Case-file #6 - Part 6

LITTLE RED LIES Part 6  
Author: G. Waldo  
Rating: Case-fic’. Some angst. Mentions of violence. Hurt-comfort. Light humour, and of course Jane-pain. SMUT in this one!  
Characters: Jane/Lisbon friendship; Jane/Cho  
Summary: The trial and the tribulations...  
Disclaimer: Not mine though I wish he was.

CBI

“Counsellor, do you wish reprisal?” Gilpin asked Selby.

Selby leaned over and whispered to Patrick. “You got to give Williams his due – the bastard is good.” 

She stood and answered the judge. “Yes, thank-you your Honour.” 

Selby approached the flustered witness, using wording and tone designed to soothe over any bad impression William’s hard-armed tactics might have left on the jury. “Doctor Miller, you’ve had recent opportunities to see Patrick again, have you not?”

“Yes. We exchanged business cards the last time we spoke.”

“When was that?”

“Two years ago.”

“And other than here in this courtroom, have you availed yourself of that corridor? Have you called or seen Patrick or spoken to him even for a minute during that time?”

“No.”

“Is there any reason for that?”

“Yes, I have been in a long term relationship for the last year and half. As proud as I am of Patrick and his recovery - and the career he has built for himself, I saw no reason to contact him. We said out goodbyes a long time ago.”

“You have recently been given an academic award, isn’t that correct?”

“Yes. I was nominated and received the honour of “Best Author in Psychiatric Studies" award from the New York Psychiatric Association in Psychosomatic Medicine.”

“A prestigious honour for a psychiatric professional whom my colleague mistakenly believes is anything but.” Selby remarked. “And where do you currently reside?”

“In New York. In South Manhattan with my fiancé.”

“Five thousand miles away from the man my colleague asserts to be the man of Doctor Miller’s secret fantasies – Patrick Jane. For the record I would like to repeat that Mister Jane currently resides in Sacramento, California and has done so for the last five years.” 

Selby then addressed the jury very much as her colleague did, with resounding confidence. “Five thousand miles apart, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, five thousand miles and no contact for two years and counting. That’s hardly what I call a romance. It’s hardly even a fantasy, is it? No further questions your Honour.”

Judge Gilpin banged down his gavel. “Then we will break for lunch.” He looked at his watch. “It is currently 12:30 PM. Court will resume at 2:30.”

CBI

People filed out of the courtroom, heading to the restrooms, elevators or stairs. Lisbon caught up to Sophie Miller just as she was about to step onto an elevator car. “Doctor Miller.”

Miller turned. “Agent Lisbon.” They shook hands briefly.

“I just wanted to say, well, thank you” Lisbon stuttered, her old and what she thought dead jealousy roused within her chest just a little. How many other women were there in Jane’s past that still had tentacles reaching out for him in the present? Yet on the stand Miller had insisted she and Patrick, if there ever was anything between them outside of the professional, were over. 

Miller could not help but glance over to where Jane was speaking with his lawyer in a private corner of the hallway, her eyes lingering, and Lisbon could not help but notice Miller notice him.“I mean for being here,” Lisbon said to draw Miller’s attention off of him and back onto her. “And for trying to help Jane.” 

“I’m not sure how much help I was.” She raised one ironic eyebrow. “I hope like hell Selby knows what she’s doing with this insanity defence. I’m surprised Patrick went along with it at all.’ Miller offered. “He’s...sensitive to that idea – being thought of as anything other than, well, sane.” 

“Yes, I guess so.” Lisbon didn’t really. She had known about his time in the mental ward - Jane had told her himself - but this trial was the first time she’d heard the awful details of it. “Well, thanks again.”

Miller nodded. “You’ll take care of him for me, won’t you?” She said in parting. 

Lisbon watched her walk away, thinking how interesting it was that the woman had phrased it not so much a request but as an agreement. A mutual understanding.

Then Lisbon turned her eyes on Jane who was shaking his head at something his lawyer was saying. Selby appeared a bit frustrated with him. Lisbon could well sympathise.

Rigsby, after a bathroom break, joined her. “How do you think it’s going?” He asked; his eyes on Jane as well. Jane and his lawyer were still arguing about something.

Lisbon wanted to be optimistic but as far as she could tell so far the prosecution’s case was devastating. It didn’t look good for their mentalist. “I hate to say it but I think Jane is going to go to jail.”

Selby excused herself from her most recalcitrant client and headed for the women’s bathroom. 

Lisbon said to Rigsby. “Hey, why don’t you go over and be encouraging to Jane for a minute.”

“And say what?”

“I don’t know, think of something. He looks like he could use a friend. Just tell him...tell him we’re behind him.” 

Rigsby frowned at the task. Jane could smell pandering a mile off, but he went anyway.

Lisbon waited for Selby to finish in the stall and began speaking just as the woman exited. “Tell me your grand plan, Selby.” Lisbon said. “Tell me your great scheme to get Jane off this murder charge because as far as I can see, you’re out there losing big time.” 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Agent Lisbon.” Selby said sarcastically, washing her hands.

“Come on.” Lisbon leaned against the sink as Selby dried between her fingers. “Williams has taken apart every witness you’ve put on the stand so far, including me. How are you going t-?”

“-Agent Lisbon, a courtroom is a theatre. It’s a play, a bloody stage show, and right now, Williams is front and centre but that will change. Trust me; we’ll get the spot-light back soon enough. The only thing is...”

“What?” Lisbon asked, hearing the uncertainty in Selby’s voice. “The only thing is what?”

“I have to put Patrick Jane on the stand and he’s refusing to dance for me.”

“What does that mean?”

Selby tossed the used paper towel in the trash and turned to her, crossing her arms. “It means he’s refusing to play up his part; the part of a man who had gone temporarily insane and shot Joshua Neil to death. Jane on the stand also means that Williams can cross-question him which is a risk, and believe me, in a murder trial, it’s a big, big risk.”

Lisbon was curious. It had been niggling at her since this all began. “Do you think Jane is guilty?”

“Yes, but it doesn’t matter what I think. What matters is what I can get the jury to think. And if Patrick forces me pull out the big guns...” Selby shook her head.

“What do you mean?” Lisbon asked, worry joining curiosity now. ““Big guns”?”

Selby’s cellular beeped for her. She looked at the tiny screen for a moment, frowned at the words written there, and then said “It means I’m Patrick’s lawyer and that means I’ll do anything or everything to see that Patrick does no jail time, and it would be a lot easier to do that if he was more cooperative.” Selby sighed, re-reading the text message. “Odd.” She muttered, then said to Lisbon “I’m tired Agent, and hungry and I have testimony to go over with Patrick and only this lunch hour to do it, so can we pick this up later?”

“Yes.” Lisbon let her go, a dozen questions unanswered. 

“Jane not cooperating. That’s nothing new.” She repeated to herself softly, leaving the bathroom and finding her agents again. Rigsby looked uncomfortable and Jane looked...exhausted but was making every attempt to ignore his lawyer’s talking in his ear as much as possible. None of that was a new state of affairs either. 

Lisbon wished she could speak to him privately and to talk some sense into him. The thought of Jane disappearing from her life inside a correctional center for the next twenty years left Lisbon feeling hollow and sick. 

When Lisbon was within earshot Rigsby was evidently taking his leave of them. When he saw Lisbon approach, he explained. “Heading back to the office, boss.”

“Right.” Lisbon said. “See you there later.” Cho was standing opposite Jane, staring at him with the oddest expression on his face. Jane didn’t seem to notice or was doing his best to act like he didn’t.

“Cho?” Lisbon asked. “You all right?”

Cho’s features shifted back to their standard mask of unflappable. “Sure.”

Lisbon turned her attention back to Jane. “How are you doing?”

Jane shrugged. “Oh, you know how it is.”

“Not really. How. Are. You?”

Jane’s eyes shifted to his shoes. He shrugged again but this time it wasn’t his habitual shrug as though he didn’t care. Jane cared. He cared very much that he might be losing his freedom on for all intents and purposes a permanent basis. The shrug was his way of saying that he was at the mercy of events over which he had no hold, and could do nothing to circumvent. Not this time.

Either that or he was hiding up his sleeve a Get Out Of Jail Free card. 

“I’m hungry.” Lisbon announced. “Who’s with me?” Although only three members of it were present, it might be their last meal together as a team.

Jane rolled on his heels, ignoring the stern look from his lawyer. “Anyone up for Dim Sum?” He asked.

Selby said “Patrick, we need to go over-“

“No we don’t.” He said, cutting her off rudely.

Cho asked Jane. “You buying?” It was good to see Jane smile.

They ate Dim Sum and, while his lawyer stewed over the wasted lunch hours, they joked around as though this wasn’t an out-of-the-ordinary day, as though there was no trial or testimony for Jane to give and maybe, just maybe, if he was lucky or his present but miffed lawyer was smart enough, he would stay out of jail and keep his freedom. They acted normal in a situation where it was impossible to feel normal. 

In the wood-polished arena replete with supposed truths, they lied to themselves.

CBI

On the way back to the courthouse, Selby insisted Jane ride with her and Lisbon and the others let him reluctantly. It was, however, in Jane’s best interests to let his lawyer have her way.

Once in the taxi, Selby directed the driver to close the partition. Once they were secluded Selby opened her phone, scrolled to the appropriate message, turned to Jane and showed him what the display read. 

Jane looked and glanced away.

“Is this from who I think it’s from?” She asked him. “R.J??” She prompted. “Red John.” The last was not a question.

Jane turned his lips downward in mock contemplation. “Him or Reggie Jackson.” 

“What does Red John know about what’s going on that you haven’t told me?” Selby pushed. “Because if Red John knows something, from everything I’ve learned from you and the things I’ve read about it, you would have to be in the know right along with him.” She reasoned. “Because Red John doesn’t do anything these days without making sure you know about it.” At his silence she added. “After the personal horrors he’s put you through, why would you protect him now?”

That solicited a swift response. “I’m not protecting Red John.” He snapped, then turned his eyes toward the street cars and the pedestrians all walking through their innocent and ordinary day. “I don’t know what that message means or if it’s from him.”

Selby did not believe him. She sat back for a moment, idly watching the street signs. They were only blocks from the courthouse now. She made a decision. Locating Teresa Lisbon’s email in her contact list, she forwarded the message to her, plus adding her own: “Lisbon – do U have NE idea what this means?”

Selby said to Jane “Maybe Lisbon knows.” She looked at him. “What do you think?”

Jane very carefully did not react. “Nothing.” He answered. “She’ll know nothing.”

Selby shook her head at her most stubborn client. “You know, Patrick, sooner or later you’re going to have to trust someone. Your lawyer - you know? The person who’s fighting to save your ass - would be a good place to start.”

CBI

Lisbon sat near the bottom of the steps of the courthouse, enjoying the early afternoon sunshine and the heat rising off the sidewalk. Her phone trilled. She had a message from Selby. Lisbon read the confusing words just above a whisper. “I told you,” the first message read, “That your insolence would not go unpunished.” Selby’s message of inquiry followed.

Lisbon felt coldness creeping into her warm sidewalk. Of course this had to do with Red John. She should have guessed that much. Of course, Jane was keeping closed mouthed about it, not even being forthright with his lawyer. There were three persons in the universe to which one should always speak the whole truth: your priest, your god...

And your attorney.

Lisbon knew the message was from Red John but that was all. As to it meaning or what ought to be done about it, she had no idea. Lisbon finally settled on telling Selby what she did know. She typed a short text and sent it. “For sure sent from Red John. Meaning? Jane knows if U can make him talk. Lots of luck.”

CBI

“State your name and occupation for the record please.” Selby asked using her most congenial voice thus far.

Jane was seated in the witness box, his body leaning slightly forward so he could put his folded hands on the wooden partition before him. For a man on trial for murder he appeared relaxed enough. Only Selby could see the tiny up and down bounce of his right knee. “Patrick Jane.” He said. “I’m a crime consultant with the California Bureau of Investigation, Homicide Division. I’ve held that post for just over four years.”

“Thank you, Patrick.” Selby said, looking toward the jury as she addressed her client. “We’ve all heard from other witnesses about your life experiences that have led you to this day, now we want to hear from you. Tell us, Patrick, in some details exactly what happened to you that day and evening – that fateful day when your family was murdered?”

Jane looked away from his lawyer to the jury and then the audience, all waiting on the edge of their seats for the gruesome tale. “At about 8:30 PM, we had just finished the broadcast-“

“The television show where you appeared as a psychic?” Selby prompted. Selby glanced at the judge. “It is a matter of record, your Honour.” She said so Jane would not have to reiterate.

Gilpin nodded.

“Yes. That was how I made my living back then, I went around the State and did live performances plus I was also doing some work with local authorities, helping them solve crimes, cold cases, kidnappings, things like that.”

“Are you a psychic, Patrick?”

Jane shook his head a little “No. There are no such things as psychics, I was...pretending – it was all an act.”

“You were a performer. You had worked alongside your father for many years in carnival’s before you left home.” Selby ran-down a bit of her client’s colourful history. “It’s where you learned and plied your so-called psychic abilities, you also learned magic, trickery, and became quite adept at all of it, isn’t that correct? In these skills you in fact became one of the top in your field.” She recited.

Patrick nodded. “Yes.”

Selby stood near her client protectively. “So you were on television, the broadcast was over, and then what?”

Patrick shrugged. “I went home.”

Selby could see her client already shifting his mind into neutral, shutting down the memories, stomping on them so they could not rise up once more and leave their awful markings upon his soul. 

That would not do. She asked very gently “And what did you find there?”

Jane stared at Selby, knowing this is what his lawyer had spent days preparing him for, but now the moment had arrived and he found his will numb, his perceptions skewed with grief, his tongue immovable, as was almost inevitable when the faces of his wife and daughter loomed before him, one moment living, the next bloody corpses. 

That morning nine years ago had been like many other mornings; just his daughter going off to school and his wife cleaning up the breakfast dishes, asking him if he was sure he really wanted to start “this television thing”, and that it worried her that he was going back to the con’ after they had struggled so hard to leave that life behind. Next had come his foolish reassurance to her that it was just another job, that everything would be fine, besides it was good money, he would be home a little late, but he would tuck Charlotte in bed like he did most nights. Charlotte would tell him about her day, some of it in secret whispers so mommy wouldn’t hear; little girl things for them alone; the picture she drew him, the games at recess, and the little brown-eyed boy that she liked...

Between conscious breaths that he worked hard to make enter and leave his lungs, Jane found he could not speak a word other than to say “They were dead.” 

Selby placed one kind hand on Patrick’s two and asked gently, hoping to coax it out of him with warm eyes and a touch. “What had happened to them, Patrick? I know this is difficult...what did you see?” 

Jane stared at her, and pulled his hands from beneath hers. His eyes were distant, his manner perfunctory. “They had been murdered.”

“And how did that make you feel?”

Jane tried not to laugh at the inane question, even though he knew it had been coming. “Angela was my wife. Charlotte was my daughter. How do you think it made me feel?” He was angry with nowhere to vent it but at her. “I went crazy. I tried to...” But it was too much. Jane closed his eyes and shut it all down, the pictures of them, torn white flesh and streaks of arterial blood, their hair brushed and their flowered dresses carefully arranged, piano music playing in the background, the lamp tilted to spot-light the red slashes on the wall in the shape of a mocking smile dripping obscenely, announcing to anyone who looked that they were dead and it was his fault. At this day and hour the fact that there had been a killer who wielded the knife felt somehow almost incidental. 

“I...there...it was my fault.” He said and Selby knew that was it. That was all she was going to get out of him on the subject and inside she cursed him a blue streak.

“Patrick, I understand this is very hard for you to-” she began as a last valiant effort - hopeless but valiant.

“No.” He looked at her, absolutely adamant. “What happened that night, what they...looked like is for me and not for you or a room full of strangers.”

Selby sighed, trying to keep her cool. Did the jackass want to go to jail? Temporarily defeated, she turned and said to Williams “Your witness, counsellor.”

CBI


End file.
